


seams and scars

by SoloByChoice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloByChoice/pseuds/SoloByChoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Wedge, the night between the battle of Yavin and the medal ceremony</p>
            </blockquote>





	seams and scars

**Author's Note:**

> I've always assumed at least a day passed between the battle of Yavin and the medal ceremony. Why don't they leave the base faster? Well, they basically can't. There's a lot of packing to do. [shrugs]

The Rebellion hasn’t had much to celebrate yet, but with the Death Star destroyed, everyone on the Yavin base takes advantage of the situation. Riding on the adrenaline high of doing the impossible, they ignore all their sorrows for a few hours. Tomorrow they’ll have to start planning for the immediate future, but tonight they party. 

Luke is the golden boy; he loses track of how many hands he shakes, how many people promise to buy him a drink if they ever go to a bar together, how many of the older soldiers recognize the name Skywalker. Han and Chewie are also getting a lot of attention, which Han especially revels in. Everyone seems to have a hidden stash of liquor that they have brought out to share. Luke tries Wyren’s Reserve for the first time - ho boy is it smooth, they don’t get stuff that good on Tatooine. Toasts are made, there’s a lot of drinking, and some singing, and Han cons half the command staff into a game or three of sabacc. Leia’s there for a while and a week ago Luke would have laughed if anyone had tried to tell him he’d someday see a half-drunk princess trounce a table of smugglers and gun runners at sabacc, but she only plays one round. 

It’s about 4 am when Luke finally wanders back to the makeshift barracks. The night before, he stayed there with Red Squadron. Now the small room he had shared with Wedge, Biggs, and Jek Porkins is empty. Luke can tell which bed was Biggs’ because it’s the only one that was made: a habit Biggs picked up at the Academy, apparently. Luke never got a chance to ask him about it. 

And now he never will.

Four days ago, Luke had never even seen a dead body. Sure he’d seen some blood- bar fights, some dumb kid who crashed his T-16, but now he’s seen people die. And Biggs is dead, Biggs who was his best friend since they were little kids - and so are Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru - - and Ben Kenobi, who he barely even knew but who knew his father. He keeps seeing that frayed, dirty cloak fall - can’t stop seeing their charred bones--

Luke’s not sure how long he lies there sobbing, but eventually he transitions to just lying there, blinking at the wall, not thinking about anything.

“Hey, Luke, are you in here?”

Luke rolls over as the light is turned on. It’s Wedge Antilles, the only other surviving member of Red Squadron. They’d met briefly the day before, of course, but Luke doesn’t know anything about Wedge, save that he’s a damn good pilot. He really doesn’t know anyone here.

Abruptly he decides that getting to know Wedge would be a good way to distract himself from his own problems.

“How long have you been part of the rebellion?”

“About a year, I think,” says Wedge, sitting down on the bunk across from Luke. “Or at least I’ve been flying with the rebels for about a year. I smuggled parts for a year before that.”

“You were a smuggler?” In Luke’s experience, smugglers tend to look a lot rougher than Wedge. Hell, as far as smugglers on Tatooine go, Han is on the cuddly end of the spectrum.

Wedge smiles slightly, apparently not finding Luke’s surprise rude. “Astromechs and engine parts, mostly. It’s not like I smuggled spice.”

“Still takes a lot of guts, I bet.”

“Much less than flying through a Death Star trench... I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.” Wedge’s shoulders slump and his eyes slide away from Luke. 

If Wedge hadn’t had to pull out of the trench, maybe Biggs would have lived. Luke knows this, but it hasn’t crossed his mind to blame Wedge. Maybe they both would have died. Maybe Wedge would have died instead. No, Luke barely knows him, but as much as he misses Biggs, he can’t let himself sink into might-have-beens. Especially not ones that involve the death of someone now living - Biggs - and he loved Biggs, but - Biggs isn’t worth more than Wedge. 

That’s the whole point of the Rebellion, isn’t it? That no one decent person is worth more than another?

The thought that Wedge might think that Luke would trade him for Biggs (and maybe yeah his gut reaction is that he’d do anything to have his friend back again, but Luke is a person and people can think before they act) horrifies him enough that he sits up.

“I told you to get outta there, Wedge, and I’m not taking it back now. I’m glad you came out of that battle alive.”

“I know... I just never imagined I’d be the one left standing. Some of those guys had flown dozens of combat missions, and most of them had formal training.”

Luke makes a face. “I know what you mean: I’d never even flown outside of an atmosphere before today.”

Wedge’s eyes widen. “Woah-- if that was you on your first day...”

“I think it was mostly luck.”

Wedge rubs a hand over his face. Luke wonders what time it is. “My parents would have said the Force was with you.”

The Force... that’s another thing that’s new to Luke and yet it seems like half the people in the base swear by it, even if none of them are Jedi. Luke resolves anew to find one of the older members of the Rebellion, someone who might remember the Old Republic and could answer some of his questions. On Tatooine, Republic or Empire made no difference. The Force meant nothing there. 

Luke wonders if he’ll ever go back. Probably not, especially now the Empire knows his name. _Who’s going to tell Biggs’ family?_

Wedge is looking at him again. “Are you okay?”

_No._ “I’ll be fine. Is it always this cold here?”

“Yeah... we should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re going to have to start getting ready to move the base, and Dodonna’s talking about a ceremony - they’re going to give you and Solo medals, I think.”

“Han’ll like that.” Luke considers taking off his shoes, but it’s just too cold, so he curls up under the sheet fully dressed.

A few minutes pass, during which Luke listens as Wedge moves around the room. He barely had a chance to meet the members of Red Squadron he shared the room with last night, but Wedge has been in the Rebellion for a year so he must have known them really well. And now they’re all gone.

He can’t recall if he saw Wedge at the party earlier. Leia was there, but it’s probably expected of a leader to at least show up, even though she’s lost more than any of them.

The reality of losing an entire planet is too enormous for Luke to wrap his head around. Maybe he should try and find Leia tomorrow.... but then, what could he possibly do to make it better? 

Suddenly a soft weight drops onto his bed. Luke opens his eyes to find that Wedge has dumped sheets from the extra beds on top of him. 

“Now maybe you won’t freeze to death tonight, desert boy,” Wedge jokes as he turns out the lights.

“It’s not my fault I’m dressed for a desert,” Luke answers around a yawn. He’s already much warmer.

“Are those the only clothes you have?”

“I have a poncho.”

Across the dark room Wedge chuckles. “We’re about the same size; I’ll lend you something tomorrow.”


End file.
